


Up To My Neck in You

by taizi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adam is adorable, Alistair is an even bigger one, Big Brother Dean, Crowley is an ass, Dean raising his brothers by himself, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Castiel, Protective Sam Winchester, Supernatural AU: Not Hunters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-28 00:39:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taizi/pseuds/taizi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam was convinced that Dean was going to work himself into the ground. And if Dean asked, if he asked <i>anyone-</i> Bobby, Ellen, Benny, Garth- they would help him, because he was twenty-one years old and charming and wonderful and raising two little brothers and working two jobs and taking classes online and they had to see how tired he was, <i>anyone</i> could see that. </p><p>But Dean would never ask, because it had been just him for so long he'd probably forgotten how to. </p><p>So when Adam came home with A+ papers, and Dean with circles like bruises under his eyes, Sam smiled at one and soothed the other and prayed every night for somebody to come along and save his brother from himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean was passed out on the couch when Sam got up, as if he'd been too tired to continue his journey down the hall to his bedroom; and the sight of him, so deeply asleep with his boots and apron still on, one arm dangling off the side, made Sam absolutely miserable. Dean worked too damn hard.

He glanced at the clock, and then hated himself for leaning over the back of the couch to touch Dean's arm. "Dean- hey, bro, it's a little after seven." His brother came out of it slowly, eyes peeling open over exhausted green, and Sam smiled warmly at him. "Mornin' lazybones. Want some coffee?"

"Wh... Yeah, that'd be..." His older brother sat up, looking ruffled and confused the way he always did after what was probably only three+ hours of sleep. "That'd be awesome, Sammy. Adam up yet?"

Sam accepted the hair-ruffle Dean gave him dutifully, and winced for his brother's sake at the sound his back made when he stretched. "'Course he isn't."

"Little shit," Dean said fondly, and went to get him. Sam set up three bowls and dumped cereal in each, pouring two mugs of coffee and one glass of orange juice, arranging them all in front of the appropriate seats at the kitchen island. When Dean came back in with a dozing Adam in one arm, he grinned gratefully.

It wasn't much, but any little thing Sam could do to help out, he would. "Come on, Adam," he said, handing his little brother a spoon when Dean plopped him in his seat. "You gotta eat and get dressed, man."

Adam stuck his tongue out, but did as he was told, sneaking glances at Dean, and Sam bit the inside of his lip, thinking,  _Okay, if Adam's noticed, then Dean really does look as bad as I thought._

"Hey, Dean, what time did you get off last night?" Sam asked casually, nodding to his apron, and Dean groaned.

"Ugh, Sammy, it was  _bad._ The new chick flaked out- on her  _third day._ Ellen was pi- mad as he-ck." Sam's lips quirked and Adam full out grinned. "Shut up. Anyway, Jo had a test today, so I covered it."

On his only day off this week. Sam couldn't help how disapproving his  _"Dean,"_ came out, and from the looks of it, Dean was expecting it anyway, and had a counter prepared. "School's important," he said, "s'why I get on your asses about studying as much as I do."

"You said 'asses'," Adam piped up helpfully, and Sam smiled when Dean grabbed him and ruffled his hair all to shit, but didn't let it go at that.

"You're important, too, Dean," he said softly, and didn't miss the way his big brother's expression stuttered for a minute, or how his tired eyes cut away almost at once.

He dropped Sam off at school first, as usual, and Sam didn't care how it made him look in front of his peers, he always turned to lean in and say some variation of, "Adam, have fun at school, and be safe at work, Dean." Because life had taught the three of them a cruel lesson very early on; that the ones you loved were the ones that God took first.

So, following in that pattern, Sam was convinced that Dean was going to work himself into the ground- and if Dean asked, if he asked  _anyone,_ Bobby, Benny or Garth at the car shop, Ellen, Jo or Ash at the bar, they would  _help him,_ because he was twenty-one years old and charming and wonderful and raising two little brothers and working two jobs and taking classes online and they could see how tired he was, they  _had_ to see that-

But Dean would never ask, because it had been just him for so long he'd probably forgotten how to. So he would work and work, and Sam would leave for college, and he'd work and work, and Adam would leave too- and then Dean would have two jobs and two empty bedrooms, and nothing left to work for, and Sam hated the thought of someone like Dean, who deserved  _so much more_ than the life he had, floundering in the world like he didn't have a place in it, too tired and wasted to find someone new to live for.

So when Adam came home with A+ papers, and Dean with circles like bruises under his eyes, Sam smiled at one and soothed the other and prayed every night for somebody to come along and save his brother from himself.

_Anybody. Please, God._

_Just- please._


	2. Chapter 2

_"Can u get a ride home with andy?"_

was the text Sam got at lunch. He blinked at his phone, a little nonplussed, and then up at the Andy in question- still at the register, charming his way to a free meal. When he picked up his tray he was smiling, victorious, and flashed a thumbs up Sam's way.

Sam shook his head, not unamused, and sent back,  _"His van's a deathtrap but yea he'd give me a lift. Why?"_

It was a few minutes before he got the reply; he had to abandon his fork to dig his phone back out while Andy was halfway through explaining to Ava why it was not wrong to flirt shamelessly with middle-aged cafeteria workers in exchange for a free bite now and then, and slid it open.

_"had to pick adam up early today, little dudes not feeling too hot. so ur good?"_

"Andy," Sam asked without looking up from his phone, already thumbing a response, "can I get a ride home?"

"Besides, twenty years ago she would totally have been my type, so it's not like- yeah no problem Sam- I'm using her, I'm just making up for lost time or something. So it's all good!"

"Oh yeah you're so right- that's sarcasm b.t. dubs. How are you so popular with everybody when deep down you're such a  _nerd?"_

"It's all part of the Gallagher charm. You should meet my brother- now that guy's a real piece of work."

_"Yeah I'm good."_

_"ok later bitch"_

_"Later jerk."_

"Well family usually does kind of suck," Ava was reasoning when Sam returned to his salad with a grin on his face. "At least, the family that leaves does- the ones who stick around are okay in my book."

"Hear hear," Andy said, lifting his Pepsi in a solemn toast. Sam felt their eyes on him, and flicked a laughing glance at them through his bangs; gave in at Ava's insistent nudge, and lifted his bottle as well.

"You have no idea."

* * *

Their apartment was a nice one, right on the cusp of downtown Sioux Falls. It was in a better neighborhood than their old place, closer to school, and Dean could afford it, sort of; besides, they'd needed the third bedroom after Adam came to live with them. 

Andy whistled when they pulled up to the curb, leaning his head out the window to look up the stretching height of the apartment tower. "Nice digs," he said, obviously impressed, and Sam chuckled, unbelting and popping open the door. "You know, you've been to my place, but I've never been to yours." If Andy wasn't an eighteen year old Sam would have been tempted to call that a  _pout_. "What gives, man?"

"I didn't know you wanted to," Sam said, a little thrown. "I'll ask Dean, he wouldn't mind. He'd probably pay you to come over, actually, he thinks I'm a hermit. Just not today- Adam's sick."

"Dean sounds rad as fuck the way you talk about him," Andy grinned. "Alright, dude, see you Monday. Tell the little guy I said feel better."

Sam waved as he drove off, and let himself into the apartment complex; heading for the elevator and jogging the last few steps when an old man held the door for him. He got off on the fourth floor, padded down the hall to 4C, and when he slid his key in the lock and turned, he opened the door with infinite care.

The apartment looked dim but inviting, and the smell of dinner cooking in the kitchen, and the soft sounds from the T.V. in the family room made Sam smile. He toed off his shoes and dropped his bag by the door, just to hear Dean complain about it later, and found his brothers on the couch.

Adam was a wheezing, blanket-swaddled lump, fast asleep in his favorite pajamas and tucked up against a similarly exhausted Dean, whose eyelids were drooping a little lower with each unseeing blink at what looked like a rerun of  _Law & Order_. Sam pulled a blanket off the back of the chair and covered him with it, hands lingering on Dean's arms to make sure they were still solid and warm- because in a small, much younger corner of Sam's brain, he was scared Dean was going to waste away to _nothing_  and then where would Sam be? For all the responsibility Dean had shouldered when he was  _fifteen,_ and bore like it was an inheritance,Sam was two years older than that now and the thought of his trying to do what Dean had somehow managed to was almostnauseating. 

_I can't be what you are, Dean. You have to take care of yourself, what will we do if you're gone?_

Dean's laptop lay discarded on the floor, still open to what looked like a grading scale, and Sam closed it and slid it away; picked up the bedraggled stuffed moose from where it had fallen and tucked it back under Adam's arm. And when Dean's eyes finally closed and his head tipped forward a little, Sam let out a breath he'd been holding.

"Finally," the middle son muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "You're so freaking stubborn." _  
_

_Just gotta make sure he doesn't wake up for at least- hopefully- eight hours. I can do that._

The pot on the stove proved to be soup left to simmer, and Sam turned the burner off. He wandered around shutting off lights, and finally paused in front of the T.V., turning it down all the way slowly before he turned it off, so the abrupt cancellation of noise didn't startle anyone awake. Then he stepped over a cluster of Adam's toys to snag one of his several dog-eared paperbacks off the coffee table.

When Sam lifted Dean's arm and settled himself against Dean's free side, his brother blinked awake just long enough to drape his arm around Sam's shoulders and haul him closer, the way Sam had half-guessed he would. Dean wasn't much of a cuddler, but he made exceptions now and then. Sam knew the ethical codes of brotherhood, though, and as much as he wanted to take a selfie of the three of them, he wouldn't. He cracked his book open instead, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the thought of what the guys at school would say about how he was spending his Friday night.

After about an hour, just when he thought he might fall asleep himself, Dean's phone beeped from the table. Sam scowled at it.

 _Could be important_ , he thought sourly, even though the three of them were all accounted for. He stretched his arm as far as it would go and leaned out slowly, trying not to jostle anyone. Once he had it, he resettled quickly, and flipped the outdated phone open to see who the text was from.

There were a few from Bobby this morning, a couple from Ellen; one from Benny, a few hours ago, all of them reading something like  _"yeah"_  and  _"no problem,"_  and before that what looked like a recipe from Garth; Sam smiled fondly at the glimpse into his brother's not-very-social circle, and scrolled down to the new message.

It was a number he didn't recognize, and the message said,  _"Of course not. I hope he feels well soon."_

Sam wasn't  _quite_  nosy enough to pan through the rest of the conversation, but-

The phone beeped again, and Sam jumped in surprise, glancing guiltily over at Dean, who slept on unaware. Slowly, uncovering the phone from where he'd curled both hands around it on reflex, he read the new message.

_"Goodnight, Dean."_


	3. Chapter 3

Sam woke up to find himself lying flat on the couch with the blanket pulled up to his shoulders, warm but not as warm as he had been. Sliding out his arm experimentally and meeting no resistance proved him to be alone, and he sat up groggily, looking around for a clock.

"Hey stretch," Dean grinned from the kitchen island, laptop open in front of him, a pile of papers off to one side. "It's almost nine. You sleep like the dead, you know that?"

"Ha ha," Sam grumbled, running a hand through his hair and clambering upright. "You should've woken me up you jerk." He retrieved his fallen book and tossed it back onto the coffee table, and then went to sit in the stool by Dean's, folding one leg on the seat and kicking the other lightly against the counter. "Homework?"

"Yeah. Professor's been on my ass about this essay, this is the second time I've had to rewrite it." He was scowling as he said it, but his green eyes were lit with the challenge. Even if no one gave him a second thought because he was a dropout with a G.E.D. and a minimum wage job, Sam's big brother was the smartest guy Sam knew. He leaned over to watch as Dean fixed some syntax here and there, and when he was offered one of the printed copies, strewn with high-lighted and crossed out areas, and confused scribbling in the margins, along with a "Take a look at this for me," he grinned and grabbed a pen.

They worked together for a couple hours, Sam asking questions now and then and Dean patiently explaining the material, when Adam called down the hall for  _Deaaaannn,_ and the mechanic hit Save and closed his laptop without further ado. He ruffled Sam's hair on his way past him and there was a smile in his "Thanks for helpin' out, Sammy," that Sam could hear even as Dean disappeared down the hall.

He had no clue how Dean managed to get any schoolwork done, ever. He shuffled the papers into a semi-neat pile and followed Dean to Adam's room, joining him when he sat on Adam's bed.

"Feelin' okay, kiddo?"

"Nnno," came the miserable reply. "My head hurts."

"Can't give you any more medicine for awhile," Dean told him, pushing the hair off his forehead with a broad hand. "Your fever's gone down though. You should feel better tomorrow. Think you can hold out, man?"

Adam blinked up at him and then at Sam, and nodded.

"'Course he can," Sam scolded Dean, shoving his shoulder. "He's our little brother, after all."

Adam smiled widely at the backhanded praise, and Dean started humming a song that reminded Sam of a woman he couldn't remember, and even though it was almost midnight, and Sam still hadn't eaten, and that nap had left him wide-awake, he leaned against the headboard next to his little brother and closed his eyes, and stayed that way for a long time.

* * *

Sam wandered into the kitchen Saturday morning to find Dean making omelets. He blinked, and felt a slow, wonderful leap of warmth.

"Day off?" he asked hopefully.

"Yup. Both Ellen  _and_ Bobby said- grab a plate- that if I show my face before Monday they'll kick my ass." He slid the omelet onto the plate and ruffled Sam's already pretty ruffled mane of hair. "You look ridiculous, Sammy."

Sam sat at the island and beamed at him. "You have the whole weekend off! You can finally catch up on your sleep!"

Dean gave him the Look, the  _You-shouldn't-be-worrying-about-that-Sammy-what-ha ve-I-told-you_ Look,and without missing a beat Sam gave him his own patented  _If-you-don't-want-me-to-worry-you-should-take-bett er-care-of-yourself_ Look in return.

Stalemate.

Dean huffed and turned back to the stove, and Sam tucked into his breakfast smugly. After a few minutes, his eyes fell on Dean's phone.

"Oh hey- you got a couple messages last night from somebody," he said. "I thought they mighta been from one of your bosses so I checked them. My bad, man."

"Nah, good lookin' out, Sam. It was- " Sam saw him hesitate; saw the spatula hover over the skillet and the uncertain shrug in his shoulders. Then "- a guy I met at the Roadhouse. A friend."

Sam stared at him, and waited for a little illumination, but then Adam came tottering in and clambered onto the stool next to Sam's, and Dean slid some scrambled eggs and sausage onto a Star Wars plate and put it in front of him, brushing his mop of hair out of his face with a "'morning, little man."

But Sam was relentless.

"When did you meet him?"

"Meet who?" Adam piped up.

"Dean's friend."

"Is it Benny?"

"No, a  _new_ friend."

Adam's mouth formed a little 'o' of surprise, and he crammed in a forkful of eggs and stared at Dean as expectantly as Sam. Dean scowled at them both.

"Nosy little brats."

"Don't be a jerk, you know all  _my_ friends," Sam teased him. "Come on, what's he like? What's his name, at least."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, and the scowl faded into something endearing. "Cas."

* * *

They spent the better part of Saturday on the couch in front of the T.V. Pretty lame as far as Saturdays go, but Sam didn't have anywhere to be until later, when he and a bunch of other kids were gonna go to the movies. It wasn't his usual crowd, and Andy and Ava had both opted out immediately when he told them Meg and Ruby were going, and normally that would've been enough for him to bail, too, but-

 _Jess_ was going. He could put up with everyone else for her.

Dean had gotten up at some point to start lunch, and Sam only realized he was on the phone when the next movie that came on had a long, quiet intro. He turned to fold his arms on the back of the couch and rest his chin on them, blatantly watching.

"No, it's not a T.V. dinner," Dean snapped laughingly, phone cradled between his cheek and his shoulder as he chopped carrots into the long wedges Adam liked. "I'm telling you I can cook. Yes, for real.  _Yes,_ like from scratch. Tonight? Lasagna. Store-bought my ass, I don't do that frozen shit unless I'm destitute."

And then Dean put the knife down to reach up and hold the phone properly. He turned around, facing Sam now, and didn't look surprised to find his little brother watching him.

"You wanna come over for dinner?"

Sam perked up, waved to get his attention, and then shot him a double thumbs up. Dean rolled his eyes, but like hell was Sam going to let him let  _this_ opportunity slip by.

"Yeah- no, that'd totally be- Uh, six. Six-ish? Yeah, sure, I'll text you my address in a bit. Okay, I'll let you go then. Later."

He pulled his phone away and just stared at it in his hand.

"What did I just do?"

"You invited a friend over for dinner!" Sam bounced once, pleased. "Hey, can I stay for dinner too? Would that be cool, I wouldn't be like in the way or anything would I?"

"What? But you're going to the movies tonight with that girl you have the hots for- Jess, right?"

Sam pulled his phone out of his back pocket and waved it. "I could text her, no big deal. So is it okay?"

Dean still looked a little puzzled as to why Sam would want to blow off his friends to hang out with his brother, but shrugged a shoulder the way Sam knew he would. "Of course it's okay, Sammy, this is your house too."

Sam grinned, and turned around to sit comfortably, tucking his legs up under him and texting Jess.

_"Can't make the movies tonight. Dean's got a friend coming over and I gotta meet him. Sorry! Will you let the others know?"_

_"Hey, no biggie. I'll text Meg. I was only going if you were. (: So what's the 411 on this friend of his, hmmm?"_

Sam thumbed a reply, grinning again, for a different reason this time; and it felt different on his face. He really,  _really_ liked this girl.

* * *

Adam was feeling a lot better, and he and Sam were playing Left 4 Dead in the living room when there was a knock on the door. Sam's ridiculously macho character got downed almost immediately because Sam glanced toward the foyer, and watched Dean wipe his hands on his jeans nervously as he headed down the hall toward the door. Sam couldn't see from his angle, and he didn't want to get up and oggle the man, since that would be rude and he's determined to make an A+ impression.

So while Francis screamed for help on the screen and Adam tugged on his shirt and told him to hurry up and get to the Safe House so they could finish, Sam was sort of straining to hear as the door swung open, and held his breath when a low, kind voice murmured, "Hello, Dean."


	4. Chapter 4

Dean split his life between a bar and a backwater car garage, and his best friend was a Cajun sailor who once slept on their couch for the better part of a year, so the last thing Sam expected was a man in a well-cut suit and rumpled trenchcoat.

Introduced as Castiel, he seemed to have an appreciation for pretty much everything, the way his eyes roamed and absorbed; from the crooked pictures on the walls, to the worn quilt folded over the back of the couch, the scattered books left open and dog-eared, the Flash action figure discarded in a bucket of legos, Dean.

Mostly Dean.

Because even though he studied the apartment like a polite foreigner, eyes tracing the pattern on the rugs, the textured swirls of the ceiling paint- once he started watching Dean in the kitchen, he couldn't seem to drag his eyes away. And Sam couldn't fault him for that, Dean cooked like he fixed cars.

Eventually, Castiel stepped away from his study of the magnets on the fridge and leaned against the counter beside Dean, giving into the urge to watch his hands and ask him questions. Dean seemed to glow under the undivided attention, if the flush on his face was any indication; he waved an oven mitt as he told Castiel a Garth Story from work the other day, one Sam didn't recognize, and when Castiel leaned in and murmured something, Dean actually _laughed._

 _Oh, we are_ so  _keeping this guy._

Sam was grinning when Castiel solemnly accepted a small stack of plates and started setting the table, aligning each plate on its placemat with an endearing sort of exaggerated focus, and Dean scowled at him over the kitchen island behind Castiel's back, obviously (correctly) assuming the worst.

And Sam was never one to disappoint.

"So how did you two meet?" Sam all but sang from his perch on the back of the couch, easily disregarding the withering glare from Dean and smiling pleasantly at Castiel when the latter glanced up. "I know you met at his work, but like, how?"

Castiel nodded once, very seriously, as though being the subject of interrogation was typical of any dinner. "Dean was involved in a rather violent altercation with four men, one of whom was brandishing a broken bourbon bottle- "

"Soup's on!" Dean pretty much came running with the casserole dish to interrupt Castiel there, and Sam's open-mouthed incredulity went studiously ignored. 

"A barfight? Really? You're unbelievable, Dean."

Castiel tilted his head, almost like a parrot hearing an unfamiliar word, like he absolutely couldn't think of anything unbelievable about it. After a moment, he offered, "If it's any consolation, he was helping a friend."

It  _was_ a consolation, and said way too nice and sincere for Sam to still be annoyed, even though he  _wanted_ to still be annoyed. For form's sake. But with a dramatic sigh that had even Adam rolling his eyes- little twerp- he decided to let Dean off the hook.

This time.

"It's not really a  _recipe_ recipe," Dean was saying as Castiel took a bite. Nervous, even though the dinner looked amazing. Sam knew it was because Dean had only ever cooked for his brothers, Benny, and Bobby; and just like with everything else he was good at and should have been proud of, Dean was devastatingly uncertain. "I just sort of- made it up? I mean obviously you're supposed to use lasagna noodles for lasagna but Sam and Adam always really liked the little bow-ties, and- "

"Dean," Castiel interrupted solemnly. "It's very good. I think it tastes better with the little bow-ties."

"Yeah?"

_Aw, Dean. You gotta smile like that more often._

* * *

_"Update: his friends name is Castiel and hes actually watching Netflix with us right now,"_ he texted Jess sometime later, curled up in the arm chair.

_"What are u watching?"_

_"Firefly"_

_"He's a keeper (:"_

Sam smiled as he pocketed his phone and snuck a glance at the couch, where Dean was valiantly trying to explain the plot to a hopelessly confused Castiel and seemed to be having limited success. Adam rescued the Flash from the lego bucket and came to sit with Sam, looking much more interested in the action figure than the antics of the space cowboys on T.V.

Sam shifted to make room for him, putting an arm around his shoulders so he wouldn't slip off, and gave him a nudge to get his attention.

"So what do you think of that guy?"

Adam turned round blue eyes up to him, and Sam hugged him tight involuntarily; for a second, remembering how hard it was when Adam first came to them, when those blue eyes hadn't been the muddy brown of dad's, or the bright hazel of his and Dean's. That blue was a sore reminder, and it took months for Sam to see past that; now it's three years later, and Sam honestly couldn't imagine life without him.

"I like him. He reminds me of Benny," Adam said. Sam blinked, a little thrown.

"Benny? Really?"

"Uh-huh. Benny's really nice, and he's bossy in a good way that Dean actually listens to, so he can always make sure Dean eats lunch and stuff. I think Castiel will be like that, too, if Dean stays his friend." Adam twisted the plastic superhero's arms up, locking them straight at the elbows, looked it over, then showed Sam.

"That's Superman's pose, buddy."

"I know." He started over, and after a minute he said, "But you know how Dean is at Bobby's? When he's with Garth and Benny, and he acts kinda mean and says bad words and laughs a whole lot?" Adam grinned up at him. "I think that's how he is when he's really really happy. And right now he's not saying bad words or acting mean, but- he's laughing the same exact way, you know? So he must be really really happy. And if it's cause of Castiel, then I like him. Dean barely laughs like that anymore."

Sam stared at him, a slow smile spreading across his face. He'd kiss the top of his head if he didn't know for a fact the ten year old would scowl and leave to sit with Dean, so he settled for telling him, "You're a genius, you know that?"

"Duh." Adam set the action figure on the end table, the speedster posed in a perfect sprint. "I'm a Winchester."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a little shorter this time.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean got the call early Sunday morning, something like three a.m.; Adam was asleep in his room, and Sam was flipping through horror flicks trying to find one he and Dean hadn't seen yet to watch with Cas, who apparently hadn't seen  _anything,_ when Dean's phone went off in the kitchen somewhere. Dean got up with a good-natured sigh, grabbed the empty soda cans to toss in the trash on his way, and as soon as he was gone Sam stuck his tongue between his teeth and hurried through the foreign titles. Dean hated subtitles, but there was a Korean movie Sam had been wanting to-

 _"Fuck._ "

Sam almost dropped the control and Castiel turned around sharply. "Dean?"

But Dean's back was to them, his grip on the cellphone white-knuckled, and he was saying, "Benny- listen to me, it's not worth it." Fear slid like ice down Sam's throat into his stomach, and he brought his legs up under him in his seat, watching anxiously as Castiel stood and joined his brother in the kitchen. "Benny,  _no._ Put it down, walk away. Go outside and sit down and breathe the fresh air, I'm coming. No it's alright, man, I won't hang up."

He looked at Sam as he spoke, and that sharp green in his eyes softened; probably because Sam had curled himself up the way he had a habit of doing when he was nervous, for all that he was long-limbed and tall. But Dean needed one less thing to worry about, so Sam stretched his legs back out, pushed back his shoulders, and nodded firmly.

"Go get him."

Dean grabbed his jacket without further hesitation, leaned over to grab his keys off an end table, ran a hand over Sam's hair in as good as an unspoken "love you," and when he looked at Cas with an apology on the tip of his tongue, Castiel tilted his head.

"I'll come with you," he murmured, and Dean looked floored for a minute, then conflicted, and then exhaustingly grateful.

He put the phone back to his ear, and Sam could hear him saying, "I'm still here, Benny," as Cas closed the front door behind them.

The apartment seemed a lot darker now that Sam was sitting by himself; the glow from the T.V. cast long shadows, and Sam tucked his legs up under him again. He realized he still had the remote clutched in one hand, switched out of the horror category on a whim and hit play on the first children's movie he found.

He reached over to turn the lamp on, slid his phone out of his pocket and balanced it on the arm of the couch, tried not to keep track of time.

He  _hated_ Benny once. He judged him too harshly before he knew much about him, said some pretty awful things, didn't want Dean hanging around "that guy" because he was no good, a druggie, a loser,  _Dean you could have better friends-_

_"I get it, Sam, okay? Just stop."_

Remembering sends shudders of shame through Sam's ribcage, and he wraps his arms around his chest. Dean had looked so  _tired_ when he looked at Sam that day, shoulders slumped, face pale, held together at the seams by nothing but coffee and willpower, looking like he'd rather get up and go back to work than be in the same room as his little brother for much longer.

And all he could think when Dean went to his room was,  _What am I doing?_

Two weeks later, they were visiting Bobby at the end of Dean's shift, and Adam wandered into the garage; it was normally no problem, because Garth adored him and kept a close eye, but Dean was in the bathroom washing up, Sam should have been  _watching,_ there was some loud-mouthed asshole (the Yard's usual clientele, really) causing a scene and kicking loose tools around because they didn't like a diagnosis, or the price of repairs, or something, and Garth was busy trying to placate them as he raised their truck on the lift a second time. Little Adam thought the hydraulic lift was the neatest thing in the world, the way it picked cars up, and sometimes Dean would bring him in and let him watch, and Garth would put a show on for Adam as many times as he asked.

But Sam should have been watching, and Garth didn't know he was there, and Sam only realized Adam wasn't with him in the office when he heard the crunch of metal and a shout. Dean came sprinting around the corner at the same time Bobby and Sam burst out the office door to find the man's 1991 Chevy C/K 2500 on the garage floor where it fell off the lift, surrounded by a halo of broken glass; Garth looking white-faced and sick, staring at the spot directly under the truck where Adam had been a  _second_ ago; and Benny, leaned against the worktable, with a long cut up his arm and Adam tucked safely against his chest.

Bobby kicked the man out brandishing an alligator saw, Garth came running with a first aid kit, and Benny wrapped his free arm around Dean without a word when the only thing Dean could do for a solid three minutes was hold Adam and press his face against Benny's shoulder.

 _"Don't you say a thing, brother,"_ Sam could remember him saying, soft and kind, in a warm Southern drawl.  _"You've done more for me than anybody else in this life, don't you say a thing."_

 _Treasure Planet_ was still on when the front door opened again. Sam glanced up, and jumped to his feet to clear the couch when Cas and Dean brought Benny his way. Cas let Dean shift Benny's full weight onto his own shoulders for a moment, taking him the last few steps to the sofa on his own because the placement of the coffee table made space too narrow for the three of them, and Dean eased Benny onto the cushions gently. Sam took one look at the pallor of Benny's face and ran to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Dean," he called quietly, and tossed it. His brother caught it deftly, sitting across from Benny on the coffee table and setting the bottle down on the floor between them.

Sam couldn't see Benny's face, and it felt like blatant intrusion to go back into the living room; so he took a seat at the island, gave Castiel a grateful smile when the man sat down next to him and laid a calming hand on his arm.

Neither of them spoke, and Sam wished he'd had the presence of mind to turn the movie off when he'd heard them coming in because animated sky pirates and that John Rzeznik song in the background of a moment as serious as this one just seemed wildly ridiculous; but Benny and Dean didn't seem to notice the T.V. was on at all, and it was down low enough that maybe it was just a comforting ambiance to what otherwise would have been a nervous quiet.

Benny had his face buried in his hands, his shoulders hunched like the wings of a grounded bird, and Sam heard him clearly when he said, "I can't be here, Dean, not like this- not with your family- "

Dean removed Benny's hands, leaned in until his eyes were probably the only thing Benny could see, and told him, firm and brutally sincere, "You  _are_ my family."

Sam held his breath until the moment Benny's whole frame just sort of slumped as the fight went out of him, and then he let it out with a silent sigh. Next to him, Cas stood up and the movement caught Dean's attention; he pressed the water bottle into Benny's hand, said something Sam couldn't hear, and then moved around the couch to join Castiel in the foyer, green eyes stark in his pale and worried face.

"Cas, I'm so sorry," he whispered. "This isn't how it was supposed to-"

Castiel stopped him with a smile. "You are a relentlessly kind person, Dean," he said gently. "I would never have you apologize for that."

Dean looked so utterly lost that Sam's heart broke a little for him. Thankfully Cas took a similar pity and moved on.

"Call me the moment it crosses your mind to," he said, so seriously Dean actually cracked a smile. "And please let me know how Benny's doing; I'm afraid I'll worry for him otherwise, even though it's none of my business."

"You came with me," Dean said, like it made all the difference; and his shoulders didn't look quite as heavy as they did before. "I'll let you know. Thanks for being great about this, Cas, I'll make it up to you."

For some reason, Sam was expecting them to kiss in the doorway, though Castiel only left with a wave. He watched Dean shut the door, then bang his head against it with a soft thud. Sam's mouth twisted, and he wrung his hands quietly, and when Dean told the room at large he was going to check on Adam, Sam slipped off his stool and padded over to the couch, sitting right next to Benny before he could think better of it.

The mechanic started, and there was absolute dread in his blue eyes when he met Sam's, waiting for what he thought he knew was coming.

Sam shook his head.

_So much went wrong tonight, but there's one thing I can fix._

"I just," he started, stopped, and pushed on. "When we met, I was awful to you and I had no reason to be. You were nothing but kind to me and Adam, and you were such a good friend when Dean really needed one, and I was so- " He twisted his hands together, a nervous pit in his stomach; Benny was having a bad night, and Sam was probably the last person he wanted to talk to, but if he didn't say this now he might never have the courage to ever again. "You saved Adam. And you're doing your best to save Dean. You- I can never- " He faltered, and bit his lip. "I'm sorry it took me so long to grow up. Like Dean said, you're family, to all of us. I mean that."

After a long moment of Sam staring at his hands in his lap, Benny whistled low. "Shoot, brother," he said, and his voice was a little shaky and scratchy, but achingly fond. "I'd say Sam's done a lot of maturin' when neither of us was lookin'."

Sam's head snapped up and he lurched around to find Dean standing behind them, smiling at him so warmly Sam felt like his chest would burst.

"Yeah," Dean said, and the quiet pride in his voice made Sam's eyes water. "Yeah, I'd say he has."


	6. Chapter 6

Adam gave a shout of delight when he saw Benny at the breakfast table, his shamble down the hall picking up into a run, and the man was braced for impact when Adam slammed into his side. Dean gave the ten year old a Look, and a piece of bacon to munch on while the muffins cooled in their tray on the counter.

Sam cut a discreet glance over at Benny; the color in his face was a lot better than last night, and his smile was easy as he nursed a mug of coffee with the hand that wasn't busy keeping Adam from pitching off his lap onto the floor.

"Benny Benny," Adam said, tugging at his sleeve until he had the man's undivided attention, "play Xbox with me before you leave, okay? Promise?"

"Sure I will, little man," he said agreeably, and Dean raised an eyebrow.

"You got the day off, too? Usually he's got one or both of us in on Sundays to rotate, which," he tacked on for Sam's benefit, leveling a non-amused look in the high schooler's direction, "is a fancy way of saying, "make the store pretty for whoever opens Monday"."

Benny grinned. "Bobby has Garth training that new kid today. The one he hired to work the computers part-time since he can't be assed to do it himself, remember? Haven't met her yet, but she's got Bobby's seal of approval, so she must be something."

"That or she brought a bottle of Johnny Walker to the interview," Dean mused, bringing the tray over and offering it to the table at large. Almost in unison, the four of them selected a muffin and took a hearty bite, and Dean continued through his mouthful, "What'd he say her name was? Charlie?"

"I think so. Damn, brother, you make a mighty fine muffin." Benny grinned at him. "We might make a wife of you yet."

Dean threw the oven mitt at him, Adam shrieked with laughter when Benny lifted him up as a human shield against further assault, and Sam reached for the pot of coffee with a wide smile on his face.

_At our house you can always count on two things- great food and great company._

* * *

Benny ended up staying for most of the day, making good on his promise to play video games with Adam, and Dean set up his computer on the island again. He was there when Sam left to meet Jess for lunch and a matinee at the school library with the world cultures club, and there when he came back again roughly four hours later.

"Hey, Dean," he said, kicking his boots off by the door. He glanced around and saw Adam sprawled in the kitchen with a Gameboy. "Benny leave?"

"Yeah, had to go home and feed his cat," his brother replied without looking up. "Or he just wanted to save face after getting his butt kicked at the same game five times in a row."

Adam giggled from the floor and Sam gestured at the laptop. "School?"

"Mhm, just gotta turn this stuff in and I- am- done." Dean drew out the words with each click of his mouse. "You okay with takeout tonight?"

"How about delivery? From that place on Indiana Avenue, with the- "

Dean glanced over with a grin. "With the giant eggrolls, heck yeah. Proud to call you my brother, Sammy. Oh hey, do me a favor and make sure Adam's got his homework done? His teacher gave me a few worksheets when I picked him up Friday, but I forget when she said they're due." His eyes trailed back to the screen as he spoke, reabsorbed into whatever assignment the intimidating stack of papers next to his computer entailed.

So Sam hauled Adam off the floor in answer, slinging the boy over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and bearing him toward the hall. "Alright kid, this is a mugging. Where's your bookbag?"

Dean snorted, but the half-smile teasing the corner of his mouth when Sam glanced back felt like a personal victory.

* * *

Sam waved one last time as the Impala disappeared around the corner and turned- to find himself in the unfortunate position of face-to-face with Ruby. He glanced over her shoulder to find Ava and Andy by the front doors where they usually waited for him, signaling desperately- but he had  _no idea_ what he was supposed to interpret from their flailing, so he rolled his eyes good-humoredly.

"Alright, I'll bite. Can I help you, Ruby?"

Tossing platinum blonde hair over her shoulder, Ruby folded her arms tightly and gave him a look that might have killed a lesser man.  _So it's gonna be one of_ those  _days._

"Um, you  _could_ have- by not  _ditching_  us Saturday," she bit out. "Jesus, Winchester, what's wrong with you? A bunch of hot chicks invite you out and you  _bail?"_

"This conversation proved about as interesting as I thought it'd be," he told her cordially. "But classes start in like ten minutes and I have to go to my locker, so..."

Sam sidestepped her smoothly, jogging up the steps to join his friends. From their skeptic expressions, he figured she was following him. And sure enough;

"I just don't get you, Sam," she snapped, striding after him with all the grace and fury of a jungle cat; though why she couldn't harness that sort of energy in gym, when all she and her friends did was walk the track and text, was beyond Sam's capacity of understanding. "You could have been quarterback. You could have been student body president. You could have been  _homecoming king-_ "

"Are you  _still_ made he wouldn't take you to that dance?" Ava asked in wonder, flinching when Ruby's spitfire glare snapped her way. "I mean, all I'm saying is, that was like a year ago. Jeez."

"Girls have the capacity to hold grudges for like a  _crazy_ long time," Andy piped up helpfully. "It'd be impressive if it wasn't scary."

"Oh my god, shut  _up,_ " Ruby said, rubbing her forehead like their voices caused her physical pain. "Listen, Sammy- "

He spun to face her and snapped, " _Don't_ call me that." He regretted it instantly, because he  _knew_ that the only way to handle her was to make like a duck and let her words roll off his back like water; from the way her eyes narrowed, Ruby would remember what it was that finally got under his skin, and would use it against him as often as she could.

"Wow, someone's a little oversensitive about a nickname," she said with glee. "What's wrong, you don't like  _Sammy?"_

Seething, he said, "No, I don't like  _you_ , Ruby. I don't like the people you hang out with and I don't like the things you do. I don't want anything to do with any of you. You think you can get away with anything you want because of your family name and your mother's money, and to be honest, that's complete bullshit."

He felt Ava's small hand on his arm, and Andy's calm presence at his side. Saw the hurt and anger in equal parts on Ruby's face. Took a deep breath, felt his chest expand, let it go.

"I don't want to be a football star or valedictorian," he continued, trying to force iron patience into his voice. "I just want to graduate in the top twenty percent of my class, and do enough extra-curriculars to make my college application look good."

_All I want is a scholarship, and a campus close to home._

Ruby turned and marched away, back straight and shoulders stiff. Sam sighed.

"You shouldn't let her get to you like that, Sam," Ava scolded gently. "She's going to try to get back at you somehow."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry."

Andy slung an arm around his shoulders with an easy grin. "I've got your six, man. I can talk to her if you want, tell her to leave you alone."

Sam smiled warmly, shrugging away and giving him a playful shove. "I don't need you flirting my problems away for me, I can handle it. I appreciate it, though."

"Sammy!"

The three of them turned around, Sam with his heart beating a little faster in automatic concern; because that was Dean striding toward him, at his school, when he should be headed to work, and that must mean something was  _wrong,_ right?

"Dean?" He hurried to meet him, clutching the strap of his bag. "What is it, did something happen?"

"Woah," his brother said, holding up his hands. The weekend off had done him good; there was color in his face and his eyes were bright and- he was attracting a lot of attention with that sideways grin, Sam  _knew_ he was. But it did its job in calming Sam down from the fit he had almost worked himself into, and he shuffled in embarrassment when Dean said, "You know, expecting some sort of disaster as soon as you see me is a little much. You know that, right?"

"Shut up, jerk." Sam hoped he wasn't turning red, he could practically  _hear_ Ava and Andy grinning. "If nothing's wrong, how come you're here?"

"Because, little brother, you dropped your phone in the car."

Sam's hand flew to his pocket on reflex, and found it empty. Dean's expression was understanding as he handed the android over, and Sam curled his hand around it tightly before he stowed it away.

"Thanks," he muttered, meaning it. He would probably have had one of his awful anxiety attacks sometime in first period when he found it missing, and that would have been a mortifying event to try to live down. Dean ruffled his hair.

"No problem, Sammy," he said cheerfully, waved at Andy and Ava, tossed a "See you at three," over his shoulder, and made his way back down the hall to the doors.

Almost every head turned to watch him go, and Ava's fingers curled talon-like around Sam's elbow.

" _That_ was your brother?" she whispered. Sam closed his eyes and  _prayed_ for divine intervention.

"Dude was hot," Andy said, sounding, of all things, impressed. Then he paused, and turned to Sam with a shit-eating grin. "Hey, wait- he called you  _Sammy!"_

 _Definitely gonna be one of_ those  _days._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Cas in this chapter :c but whoo, Charlie!


	7. Chapter 7

Once when Sam was seven, he came home from school to an empty house.

The bus stop was only just down the street, and Dean had walked him to and from the corner a thousand times; so when there was no one waiting for him when he hopped the last step off the bus onto the curb, he didn't panic. He only glanced around once, cursory, before tugging his bookbag up on his shoulder and walking home. Fished the copy of the housekey out of his bag, from where Dean had attached it to a zipper with the steel split ring gutted off a keychain, and unlocked the door.

Sam had felt very grown up, and even rooted a snack out of the fridge for himself on his way to the bedroom he shared with his brother. Climbing onto the bed, and spreading out his homework and a textbook and the fruit cup, Sam glanced at the wall clock and thought,  _He'll be home soon._

After two hours, all his homework done and packed away again, the youngest Winchester felt the first cold nudges of fear. _"He'll be home soon,"_ he told himself firmly, and went to the kitchen to throw his empty fruit cup away, even washed his spoon. Wandered around the house sort of tidying up where he could with their meager belongings, did his best to ignore the clock that seemed to be ticking louder now, because it was dinnertime, wasn't it? And he was all alone.

He ended up going back to his room, picking a book off the shelf and searching for the dog-eared page. Smoothing the fold back out with trembling fingers, Sam blinked stubbornly through tears and started to read.

Four chapters later, and the front door flew open so hard it cracked against the counter. Sam started, jerking his head up, and heard the heavy thud of his father's boots.

Instantly uneasy, fingers bending the paperback spine a little as his hands curled with fear, Sam flinched when he heard glass break somewhere in the house, and scrambled off his bed to slide underneath it. He reached out as an afterthought to drag his bookbag under with him, and huddled there to stare past the edge of the blanket at the doorway. His heart thumped against his breastbone so hard he thought one or the other might break.

He saw his dad's feet come past the door, pause, step in- and Sam clenched his eyes shut tight, covered his mouth with both hands, and stayed still, until his father turned away again and left the room, thumping through the rest of the house like some kind of lumbering monster.

And he had stayed in his spot under the bed for a long, long time after that, long after the front door had slammed shut and he heard the car roar away. He stayed there with his hands clenched in front of his face, crying because when Dean was there it was okay, but Dean wasn't and Sam was alone and he was almost alone with  _daddy,_ and-

 _He's scary,_ Sam realized that day, the only sounds in the whole house his muffled sobs and the ticking clock.  _Daddy's scary._

The front door had opened again and Sam froze, eyes wide.

 _"...has to be here, Bobby, he_ has  _to. Sam? Sammy?"_ The steps that moved through the house then were hurried, and the voice calling out was frantic but familiar. Sam scooted out from under his bed just as Dean appeared in the bedroom doorway.  _"Oh, thank god."_

There had been something wrong with Dean's face- it was mottled on one side, weirdly yellow and purple- but Sam was so shaken that all he could do was bury his face in his brother's wet jacket and cry and cry.

 _"I'm so sorry, buddy."_ Dean's arms around him were warm and solid, the only constant left in the whole entire world.  _"I'm sorry, Sammy."_

Two days later, he was sitting on the steps of Bobby's wooden porch with a cream soda, one of the salvage yard dogs, and his very first cell phone. It was a ten dollar tracphone from the supermarket; Dean attached it to a Batman lanyard so Sam could wear it around his neck, and spent whole hours teaching him how to use it.

_"Here's my number, see, Sammy? It's lit up red all the time, so people will know to call me if there's an emergency. And here's Bobby's, too. From now on, if you're ever alone or scared, this will keep us together. You can call me, and I'll come find you, no matter what."_

And Sam had kept it close every day; plugged it in next to his bed very carefully every night, and hung it around his neck every morning. Dean was with him the next time they saw dad, back at that little house, but Sam's hand still flew to the phone at his chest the moment dad walked in. He had clutched it with fingers that shook even as Dean rubbed a hand through his hair.

Sounding really sad when he said,  _"That's okay. You hold onto it, Sam."_

"...am. Sam? Hey, are you okay?"

Sam started, jerking his head up. The class was splitting into pairs to start work on the last paper of the semester, and Ava was turned around in her seat, brow furrowed in concern. It took Sam a moment to realize he had his phone out on his desk, and both hands curled around it tightly.

"Oh. Oh, I uh- " He stuffed it back in his hoodie pocket, blinking. "Sorry, I guess I zoned out."

She studied him for a minute, then smiled and plopped her folder down on his arm." _I'll_ say. Anyway... "

Sam shifted through the papers as she talked, reaching down to his bag to pull out his notebook, one hand curled resolutely around the security blanket he never grew out of.

* * *

Three days later, Dean was a bundle of nerves when Sam slid into the front seat of the Impala after school, fingers drumming on the steering wheel in the biggest tell Sam had ever seen. The middle child blinked at him, and then twisted around to look at Adam; who shrugged his shoulders, eyebrows cinching up to meet his hairline.

"Dean?" Sam finally said, reaching out to poke his shoulder. "Hey, man, what's wrong?"

For a minute it didn't look like he would answer. Then he leaned forward and dropped his face on the wheel and groaned. When he spoke his words were so muffled Sam had to strain to catch them.

"Letter should be in the mail today."

"Letter?"

A barely perceptible nod, and Dean didn't lift his head. "From school. Final scores."

Sam blinked once, twice; then his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened pretty much on their own. "Your final scores? You're done? You  _graduated?"_

The sound his big brother made was as close to a whimper as Sam had ever heard out of him. "Unless I failed everything."

"Oh my  _god,_ Dean." Sam shoved his shoulder, a grin threatening to split his face in two. "Hurry up and drive, the mailman totally should have been there by now! Let's go! Tell him, Adam."

"Let's go, Dean!"

Dean's expression was pathetic, but he started the car and pulled onto the street regardless. Sam watched him sidelong, trying to bite down the corner of his smile so he wouldn't start gushing, because  _damn._

Dean was incredible.

* * *

"Cas!" Adam called as soon as he popped open his door, and Sam got out and shaded his eyes to look in the direction Adam was scampering. The blue-eyed man was waiting by the parking lot gate, and held up his hand in response to Sam's cheerful wave, already bending to catch Adam's signature football-tackle-hug.

"Adam, jesus," Dean said without heat, shouldering the grade schooler's bookbag and meeting Castiel's eyes for all of two seconds before his gaze shuttered away and he reached back to tug the gate closed behind him. He didn't look the least bit surprised to see Cas there, so he must have been expecting him.

 _He freaked out when he heard he'd be getting the letter today,_ Sam realized with glee,  _and called Cas before he could help it._ _  
_

Sam snagged Adam by the sleeve and dragged him to one side as Cas stepped forward to put himself in Dean's way as he turned back around. And when Dean had absolutely nowhere else to look, Castiel put his hand on Dean's shoulder. It was nothing but the barest press of his palm into Dean's collarbone, fingers curving up the slope of his shoulder, and somehow it looked a thousand times more intimate than an embrace.

When Cas smiled, tension Sam hadn't even noticed was there melted out of Dean's shoulders, and Dean smiled back.

"Hey, Cas."

"Hello, Dean."

Sam wrapped his arms around Adam's shoulders and propped his chin on Adam's head, grinning ear to ear as his little brother giggled. Dean glanced over on autopilot at the sound, and at the same time his eyes softened on the two of them, his face folded into an annoyed scowl.

"Brats. One of you grab the mail."

He tossed his keys over and Adam caught them, scrambling through the front door and over to the row of mailboxes in the lobby. Sam stepped back to keep an eye on him through the glass of the door, and wasn't watching when Castiel said, "I'm certain you did wonderful."

And he wasn't watching when Dean muttered, "I don't do wonderful."

Adam came bursting out the door again, with a handful of envelopes he ran over to Dean. When Dean shuffled his school letter out first, a thick white envelope, he passed the others over to Cas. Castiel took them gravely, and even though Sam  _knew_ Dean did fine, he was still holding his breath as Dean ripped open the evelope along the side and drew the letter out lengthwise.

Dean stared at the page for a long time, and when it was obvious he wasn't reading anymore, Sam inched forward to pluck it out of his hands. With Adam pushing against him on one side, and Cas leaning over his opposite shoulder, Sam read,  _"Congratulations,"_ and  _"3.8 GPA"_ and  _"degree will be conferred at the graduation ceremony,"_ and that's when the page started swimming.

"Oh my god, Sammy, you're such a girl."

"Shut up, you jerk." He rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve before he could actually start crying and let the letter go when Castiel drew it away. "You're gonna graduate. You finished college. Dean, you're twenty-one, that's- incredible."

 _My big brother,_ he thought fiercely, _dropped out of high school to take care of me. Now he's graduating_ college _._

Castiel smiled warmly, fingertips tracing what Sam could guess was the  _Dear Mr. Dean Winchester_ at the top of the page.

"Wonderful," the man murmured like it was a conviction, and Dean flushed.

"Yeah, it is," Adam concurred, blue eyes round and serious. "And we're gonna be proud of you whether you like it or not, so take it like a man."

Sam drew his phone out and found Ellen in his contacts. Dean had a shift at the Roadhouse tonight, but surely Ellen would understand if he was just a little late today. They  _had_ to celebrate. Dean worked so hard, and it was finally starting to pay off; and Castiel didn't look inclined to leave any time soon, gazing as fondly at Dean as if they'd known each other for years. Sam wanted Cas to come celebrate with them, too.

Just a quick dinner somewhere nice. That wasn't asking too much, Dean  _easily_ deserved that.

So he started a new message thread and sent her a quick text.

_"Hey, Ellen. So get this."_


End file.
